Neverland
by CHLAMEISNA
Summary: Blaine and Kurt are teenagers in high school, trying to survive their own lives. Blaine's father is an abusive drunk and Kurt just doesn't get along with his family. Warnings : Extreme physical abuse and swearing. More warnings inside.
1. Late

MONDAY

He doesn't have an iPod or an MP3 player, but he listens in his head. He doesn't have the luxury of music like that, but he's got a stereo at home that he listens to religiously. It's better than anything any God might grant him for his life. Music and school, those are the Godsends that he's got, and he wouldn't really have it any other way. Some people didn't like school, but he did. It was a safe place for him to be, to learn and to live. It was better than being at home.

He turns onto a familiar boulevard and he finds himself slowing his pace. This boulevard is a place he doesn't want to be, but he has no other choice. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his shit cell phone, glancing at the time very briefly. Half past five. Fuck, he's late. This isn't going to go down well, he already knows. That's the one thing he was granted, a cell phone. So he could be contacted easily. He was taught well to always keep it on him, and always have it turned on.

He keeps walking, deciding against playing music in his own head. He wants it clear and quiet now, and maybe he'll be able to think of a good reason why he's late...again. But he knows, somewhere in his subconscious, that whatever reason he conjures won't be enough. There's going to be consequences, prices to pay. There always is.

Step. Step. Another step and he's closer to the dreadful house. He doesn't want to go, but he knows that he has to. For the sanctity of himself and his other. He thinks of her and smiles to himself, but also wonders if today she's okay. If today he'll find her awake and not crumpled on her bedroom floor again. He shudders lightly, gripping the straps of his backpack tighter, pulling them over his shoulders just a few inches more. No, he can't think like that now, not on his way home. It's been a decent day and he's not going to let the possible, painful reality affect the high he's coming off of.

A car rolls by and he steps up onto the sidewalk of the street. He wouldn't mind geting hit if his mom weren't on his mind. Gorgeous, beautiful Allison. He's her reason to live, he knows this. He sighs, dropping his head and staring at his shuffling feet on the ground. He kicks a rock and keep on moving. He kind of hates it here in L.A., he wishes to God that he could get out with Allison and leave, but he knows that he can't. He needs to get an education and money before they can leave. But fuck, if he could, he would take her and just go.

'But there's no getting out of this shitty L.A. neighborhood. I'm stuck here for at least another year and a half maybe two.' he thinks to himself, lifting his head and peering up at the sky. The blue seas were clear with the exception of the burning orange disk that shot rays o light into every open area. It's beautiful despite the fact that he really, really, really hates it here. He's been here for seventeen years and the new millennium was breaching, shouldn't he be somewhere else than here?

Sickening, almost. He's been here seventeen years, and he's still alive. How is he still alive after everything he's lived through? It's almost a miracle, to be honest. He sighs heavily, lazily shuffling his feel along the ground. With every step it's like another punch to the gut, another ten pound weight on his back. It's exhausting and he really doesn't want to go. He sighs again, coming within sight of his house. It's small, painted a faded blue with a white, rusty hinged door. The windows are grimy from lack of cleaning attention, the lawn is brown in some areas. There isn't really a garage, it's more like a shed with a drive way in front of it, also painted faded blue. The roof looks as if it's about to cave in any moment, and Tommy just cannot wait for the day that it does. Maybe it'll crush his drunk of a father.

He pauses at his neighbor's house, not wanting to take another step forward, closer. If he could, he'd burn out on the streets for the rest of his life. But he has to take care of himself and his mother, and the way he can do that and still go to school is by living here. His hands tighten on the straps and he feels the dulled ache from yesterday's beating on his hips. His hips, of all places. Goddamnit. Blaine drops his head, inhaling deeply. He tries to calm himself, holding back his distaste for his home life. He has to be strong. For Allison, he has to be strong.

He takes another step forward and pauses, hearing a racket from his neighbor's house. He cringes, glancing to his right at the neat, well kept front of the Hummel household. He doesn't really know them, but they are nice people. They would bring dishes over at Thanksgiving and Christmas as a gifts for the holiday season. Blaine has met the parents and the oldest of two sons, but he's never really made much of an effort to meet the youngest son. What did the parents say his name was? Karl...Kane... Something that started with a 'K'.

There's shouting, and the door is ripped open of the Hummel house, and out stroms a semi-tall, broad-shouldered male, looking in his late teens, with deep blue eyes and bright brown hair. His face is twisted in that of anger and sadness, his eyes distant, and he doesn't seem to notice Blaine as he stomps across the lawn and down the sidewalk in the opposite direction that Blaine is headed. Staring, blinking only once, Blaine watches the male got smaller and smaller down the street, before he disappears all together. This is an occurrence that happened, perhaps, once or twice a week. True though, the Hummel's are nice people, but Blaine has learned that they don't always get alone with another.

Turning forward again, Blaine walks up the sidewalk, spinning on his heel and crossing the browning, crunchy lawn. He considers turning around and following the brunette boy, just as an excuse not to go home. But he's almost certain that his dad has already seen him on the lawn, and will be expecting him to walk through the door at any moment. No, he can't turn around now and follow the youngest of the Hummel sons, as much as he might want to. He doesn't deny that, despite the fact he's never met the younger son, he's rather attractive when he's not angry.

That's a secret Blaine's kept even from his mother - the fact that he's gay. Oh, Lord Almighty, what would father say if he knew Blaine Devon Anderson, his little boy, was a fag? Blaine cringes at the idea, climbing the old, rotted porch steps and gripping the door knob in his left hand. Inhaling slowly, he wills himself forward, to face the consequences. 'Just go,' he tells himself, confident and sure that he'll make it through the night, just like he has for the past seventeen years. He nods to himself once. Blaine turns the knob slowly, and doesn't get the chance to step into the doorway before an empty beer bottle crashes against the wall perpendicular to the frame, spraying glass in front of him. A few small shards grace his face, slicing faintly into his skin. He squeezes his eyes shut as the glass shatters on the wall, clamping his jaw tight; it's a reflex. He's learned to keep his sight protected and his mouth closed. The last thing he needs is to get the inside of his mouth torn to shreds or to lose his vision.

"You little shit! You're late again!" His father bellows. Blaine opens his eyes, stepping into the house and closing the door behind him. His father is a large, beastly man with unkempt brown hair and angry brown eyes. His wide, meaty hands are curled into fists, one around a half-empty beer bottle, the other around the pale, thin wrist of his mother. Blaine's eyes widen slightly as he stares at her; her faces is freshly bruised over the swollen cheeks from last night's beating. Her lip is split, her hair in tangled clumps. The tank top she is wearing exposes the welts and bruises on her arms and shoulders, her shorts just covering the bruises on her upper thighs. Her calves and ankles are a semi-permanent black and blue shade, swollen and aching. His stomach flips at the sight of her, her black hair curtaining her sorrowful green eyes.

"You should know by now the price to pay." Surprisingly, his father is only half drunk, and thus can speak coherent sentences. But his voice is loud and obnoxious, and his hand tightens around Allison's wrist. She squirms, but doesn't make a sound. Blaine keeps his mouth shut, tearing his eyes from his broken mother, and looking up at his douche of a father. Matching brown eyes meet and his father snarls, throwing the bottle that is in his hand at Blaine. Blaine leans to the right, the bottle smashing behind him on the wall, beer splashing out and hitting him in the back. His pack is going to reek of alcohol tomorrow, and he knows his teachers are probably going to ask questions. Great.

"Stop it, Richard, stop hurting him..." Allison begs, trying to stand up straight beside her husband. Richard shoves her to the ground; her elbow collides with the hard wood floor.

"I haven't fucking touched him, you whore!" He shouts at her, spitting on her face as he does so. Blaine has the urge to run over and punch him, but he knows, even in his father's state, that he wouldn't be able to reach him. That was the disadvantage of being short when your father was a beast.

Blaine wants to scream and shout and punch his father over and over, but he's weak. He's weak and he doesn't have the will to stand up against his own father. Not even his mother, as much as he wants to. His hands curl at his sides and he breathes as evenly as he can, his eyes narrowing at his fahter. But Richard's not really seeing him. He's seeing an outline, a quivering shadow of fear and rage. Richard's cracked lips spread into a toothy smile, and he starts to laugh as he sees the curled fists at Blaine's sides.

"Little Blainey wants to be tough, eh? I'll teach him to be tough." He starts walking towards Blaine, swaying slightly with every third step. Blaine relaxes his muscles; he's learned. Do not tense up, for it will hurt worse. Do not fight back, for the beating will last longer. Do not make sound, for the blows will come harder. And for God's sake, do not try to defend yourself.

The meat palm slams across his cheek and he stumbles into the door, his face throbbing and his head spinning. His textbooks dig into his back from his pack and he wishes that he could have dropped his bag before enduring this. But he was never really given the chance to do such. From the moment he'd opened the door, it has been hell. Go figure. Richard reaches out and grabs Blaine by the collar of his sweatshirt and throws him across the room and down to the floor. He lands on his stomach and skids a foot, crashing into the coffee table (of which is nothing more than a piece of wood placed upon four cinderblocks). His shoulder hits one of the blocks, and he can already feel a bruise forming. He opens his eyes and looks over at his mother. She's sitting up, her hand over her mouth, her eyes pouring tears like rivers. She can't do anything to help him. And he can see that she's hating herself for it.

He wants to tell her it'll be okay, and that they'll make it out together. They'll live. But he's not convinced of that himself as Richard pulls him from the table by his bag, flipping him over, his tight fist slamming repeatedly into Blaine's stomach. 


	2. Kurt

TUESDAY

His stomach is hurting as he takes steps up the stairs of the front of the school. He's surprised that none of his ribs are broken from yesterday, and that he's even able to walk at all. True, the pain is breaching upon unbearable, but he'll live. He has to. For his mother, for himself, for his future. Especially his future; he's got plans he wants to accomplish. He wants to make it big one day and forget about all of this, but that doesn't mean he has no doubts about anything. Maybe he won't make it big, maybe he won't make it to tomorrow. Perhaps it's less of doubts and more like fear.

Blaine sighs softly, willing himself not to clench his stomach as he walks away. He can't draw attention to himself, otherwise everything will get worse. He keeps his hands on the straps of his bag against his chest as he makes it to the top of the stairs, winded and aching all over. But he can't let it show. He has to keep his face calm and his voice sure. He's done this before, but it's not easy. And he knows deep inside that it'll never get easy. Not as long as his dad is alive, anyway.

'You'll be fine'. His mother had told him that morning as she kissed his forehead. Richard had been passed out on the couch again, his fists red from punching and hitting them both. Blaine shivers at the memory, wishing that he had fought back and that he wasn't so fucking weak. He promises himself and his mother daily that he's going to make Richard pay for everything that he's put them through. And eye for an eye, as the old saying always goes. Blaine breathes slowly, slipping between the crowds of seniors and juniors. People he's known for a few years, but doesn't all the same. He doesn't make friends very easily and doesn't trust himself to hold onto those that he does greet.

Blaine slips through the open doors, brushing passed students and teachers, even the occasional janitor. He walks down the wide lobby, and turns left, climbing a small flight of stairs and towards the first locker bay. He's at the end of the hall, the last locker on the right. It's kind of irritating having to go from his locker to the math hall on the other side of the fucking school. He walks in step with the music in his head, his lips forming the words ever so slightly; today it's Madonna's Vogue. Shut up, he likes this song.

He slips between two massive football players, thankful for his size that he's able to do this from time to time. At least when they're not trying to grab him so they can flush his face into the bathroom toilets. He shivers once, remembering that one time they flushed his face when there had been piss and other questionable fluids swirling in the bowl. That had not been the best day of his life, needless to say.

Blaine drops his bag at his locker, amazed that he made it without trouble. His lungs are wheezing in his chest and he's got sweat on his brow from the aches in his chest and stomach, but he'll be fine. His only concern is gym class at the end of the day. Fortunately he always wears pants and under-armor beneath his school gym t-shirt. It's to hide the bruises that decorate his body like hideous tattoos. They never seem to go anyway anymore because fresh ones are created on a most daily basis. He kneels down, his face twitching in pain lightly before he rights himself again, spinning the dial and opening the old, creaky metal door. He swings his backpack around and open it up, pulling out his texts and books. It's a wonder he doesn't have back problems with the shit he hauls around. Then again, Mother did teach him to walk with his back straight.

Neatly placing his unnecessary books inside, Blaine starts to shove his journal into the small space before he pauses, staring at the cover for a moment. He retraces his moves, and places the journal back into his bag, zipping it up and slinging it over his shoulder again. Adjusting his grey and black stipped sweatshirt, he stands and shuts the locker door with the toe of his shoe. The pain in his chest are dulled when he doesn't aggravate them, and he's trying his hardest not to. He takes a few steps, dropping his head and letting his hair short, messy curly hair fall over his eyes.

He's not paying attention to anyone or anything, and he doesn't see the slightly taller male before they crash into one anther, books and papers flying around in the classing chaos of every chessy high school movie. Blaine lifts his head, his binder digging into his lower back as he sits up, his face twisting in pain, though he doesn't have to worry about hiding it, because the surrounding people would suspect it was from being run into. He looks over, seeing the light brown hair that he remembers from yesterday. His neighbor's eyes flutter open and he, too, sits up, before they make eye contact.

Blaine is startled by the electrifying blue of the brunette's eyes. His breath catches in his throat and he looks away, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. He stands up, dusting off his knees before holding out his hand to the blue-eyed male on the floor. The brunette nods once in thanks, taking Blaine's hand. Blaine tried not to stare at their clasped hands. They fit perfectly together, and Blaine wishes for the life of him that he remembered his neighbor's name now. He feels horrible about it, but he forgets that when the brunette blushes and looks so innocent. He's humble, and Blaine finds that very attractive. He, grudgingly, lets go of the brunette's hand and stoops down, gathering the fallen books and the papers.

"I'm so sorry I ran into you... I, I wasn't paying any attention," the brunette stutters, his eyelashes sweeping over the tops of his cheeks and his blush darkens a little more. His hair is short and perfectly styled and Blaine has the urge to reach up and run his fingers through it, but he doesn't. He bites on his bottom lip and hands the stack to the blue-eyed male in front of him.

"No, it's alright. It's my fault too, so it's okay." He says with a sweet, shy smile. The male takes the stack in his arms, his backpack pulled tight against his shoulders. Blaine readjusts his own bag, slipping into the awkward silence, though he wants to make conversation like you would not believe. There's a lot of things that he wants to do (none of them are sexual, you pervs), like that his hand and compliment his beautiful eyes. But he can't because that would be even more awkward than the silence they are currently under. Blaine scratches the back of his neck, his fingers trailing over a small bruise. He fights a wince as the brunette looks up again.

"I- uh, I don't think we've met, personally," he shifts the stack into one arm and extends his right hand, a smile gracing on his lips. "I'm Kurt Hummel." he says. Blaine smiles wide, taking Kurt's hand in his. So he was right, his neighbor's name started with a 'K'. Kurt. Such a beautiful name.

"I'm Blaine Devon Anderson, but you can call me Blaine." He says. Kurt's eyebrow raises in a slight arch and his smile shift to a light smirk.

"Anderson? I've heard that name before-"

"We're neighbors. I'm in the faded blue house with the shitty lawn." Kurt's face breaks out into one of the most beautiful smiles ever, and Blaine's ears are graced with a light, breathy laugh. He fights the urge to pull the pale to him and listen deeper to that laugh. It's intoxicating, the smile and the laugh is just all the more perfect. It's as if the world has fallen away and it's just the two of them standing together and laughing as if they've known each other for forever.

"That's right! My family gives you food during the holidays." Blaine nods once, his face starting to ache with how much he's smiling. He's never smiled this much before. He's never talked to someone this long before. He wants to give in and make a real, true, lasting friend, but in the back of his mind he can his conscious. 'Befriend him and you'll only hurt him. As soon as Dad finds out, you're going to hurt him. And you're going to lose him.' But Blaine shoves the thought aside as he shifts and walks beside Kurt back down the hallways towards the lobby. He's ignoring the constant shouting in his own head to just leave Kurt. It'd be for the best of everything, and he knows deep inside that he really should. But he doesn't want to. For once, he's doing what he wants, and he's not going to care what the consequences are.

At least not right now.

"So, what's your next class?" Blaine asks as they shuffle passed a couple making out beside locker 69. Blaine finds the humor but he's done with the stupid 69 jokes. It was one thing in freshman year, but as a junior he knows better.

"Pre-calc with Howard." Kurt says. Blaine finds his heart pounding and he smiles wide.

"Me too! Isn't he a douche?!" Blaine says, not afraid of stating his opinion. He's amazed that he's never seen Kurt in that class before. Then again, before today, Blaine's never really pain any attention to who's in the class. He just goes to learn really, to get an education for his mother and himself. As a matter of fact, he can't remember who all is in the class with him. He's never noticed faces, just people.

"Oh my God, yes!" Kurt says, his voice squeaking lightly, and he blushes a mad shade of red. Blaine stares for a moment and starts to smile again. But smiling isn't the only thing that happens. He starts to giggle- and gigles break into laughs. He stops laughing for a moment, astonished. He hasn't laughed since he was a kid. And at this, he laughs again, feeling so light and so free that he laughs hard. And Kurt is intrigued by Blaine's random laughing outburst that he starts laughing too. If this were any other school in any other place, people would stop and stare to try to figure out what the fuck they were laughing here. But here? No one cares. No one even turns. It's kind of nice, to be honest.

His sides aching from laughing more than anything. Blaine finally regains his breath and wipes away the tears in his eyes. He hasn't laughed in years, and to laugh that hard? His throat is sore from laughing and he's breathing hard. But it's so nice. It's so nice to be free and to be able to do this again, when it's been locked away for so long. Blaine inhales slowly, his face curled into a crooked smile and he can't find it within himself to shove that smile away and keep a straight face. He doesn't want to, and he's perfectly fine with that.

"What was that all about?" Kurt asks him, wiping away his own tears of laughter. Blaine chuckles.

"Sorry-I...I haven't laughed.. like that in years." he adds those two words, 'like that', before finishing his sentence. He doesn't want to concern Kurt terrible. That wouldn't be good.

"Oh. Well, I'm glad I was able to help." He says, smiling. Blaine has to keep himself from hugging the brunette.

"Yeah, thanks." he says, still chuckling. They walk through the lobby, their packs and books held close. It's high school, but people are still known to snatch and run. Blaine steals private glances at the slightly taller male, and he smiles to himself. He's so beautiful. Without thinking clearly, Blaine casually drops his right hand, his left hanging free. Blaine side-steps around a passing cheerleader slut, his hand brushing against the back of Kurt's. His head snaps over at the brunette at the same time Kurt turns to him. They glance down at their hands, before pulling away; Blaine reattaches his hand to the strap of his back, and Kurt cradles his crap in both arms, a blush on his face.

'Stop it, Blaine Devon Anderson. You can't get attached like this. You're only going to hurt him in a long run, so just stop it. Leave him alone, let him live his life. You'd be saving him that way. For the love of God- do not fall for him...' Blaine rolls his eyes mentally and shoves the conscious thoughts away, not wanting to listen the rational thought. This is what happens after years of abuse. He thinks on the better behalf of those around him and doesn't consider his own happiness. Even in the ten minutes together or whatever, Blaine is happy with Kurt, and he hasn't been happy in years. But he knows that by letting Kurt into his life, he's putting the brunette at risk of his father's rage, of his past. He can't do that to Kurt. But at the price of being happy, he's considering it.

'Fine, but if you destroy his beautiful soul, you'll have no one to blame but yourself.' he cringes at the thought, aching more from the bruises and the laughter. His heart is aching, and he's never cared for someone more than his mother. But Kurt- fucking hell, Kurt's a different case. Kurt is beautiful.

'Fuck, Blaine. You're already in way too deep.'

And you know what? He doesn't care.

What do you think? I wanna get 10 reviews before we move to the next chapter ;)

And these are a few notes you should read

OKAY. Warnings are probably something like swearings, extreme physical abuse, angst, drama and all that.

I must say that :  
-Blaine doesn't have a big brother so no Cooper here -The set is in LA.  
-No Rachel and those people from McKinley unless Finn, Carole and Burt.  
-REVIEWS!

~CHLAMEISNA :) 


	3. Lunch

TUESDAY

Upon leaving the roon of pre-calc, Blaine realizes that, for the first time, he didn't really pay any attention whatsoever in class. Thankfully, because he's a smart boy like that, he already knows most of the material and can easily catch up on anything he missed druing said class from his textbook, but otherwise he was off in his own world of utter bliss the entire period. Doing what, exactly?

Talking to Kurt, of course.

Apparently they had been sitting next to each other for most of the semester and Blaine never noticed him before. But then again, he's never really noticed anyone before. Before, it was as if everyone was just a shape and he was the only detailed person. Or maybe he was the only shape and everyone was detailed, and thus was too dull to be accepted into their world of beauty. He's not sure, to be exact. Maybe it's just Kurt. Because he still doesn't really notice anyone else.

He shuffles in silence behind Kurt, taking a long step and coming up beside the brunette, giving him a slight smile. They decided, about half way through the period, that they will go to lunch together. Probably to somewhere cheap like McDonald's or something, because that was all they could really afford. Not that it really matters, both boys are huge fans of burgers and sodas, so it is a complete and epic win solution, to be honest. The only downside is that McDonald's is a seven and half minute walk away from school, and it is usually swimming with the student body.

Pushing passed a crowd of lazy freshman, Kurt and Blaine walk side by side down a wide hallway, back towards the front lobby of the school. The walls are painted a boring white, the lockers a faded color of red. The flowers are a deep mahogany hard wood; something that's not a common in other high school in the area, whose floors are ugly tiles of puke pink and yellow. Sunlight streams in from the overhead skylights and pours over the moving masses of students and teachers. It's the lunch hour and everyone's running around to get to their favorite sopts or food joints.

On several occasions, due to the crowds slamming into them, Kurt and Blaine's hands brush together. Though neither of them look at each other, both have light blushes on their slightly pale faces. Blaine because he really wants to hold Kurt's hand; Kurt because he's...well, sorry, Blaine's not a mind reader, so he doesn't know why Kurt is blushing. But he won't deny that it's more than fucking adorable. Yeah, he sneaks little glances over at Kurt now and then, but he really can't help it to be honest.

"McD's?" Blaine says over the roar of voices and people, and Kurt nods once, a lightly smile on his lips (how Blaine adores those lips of his). THey slip passed cheerleaders, football players, nerds, geeks, theatre kids, emo kids, choir kids, writers, painters, musicians, teachers and een teenage parents- but they're all the same to them; students. People in the world with hopes, dreams and lives. Kurt seems to know some of them, mostly theatre kids. This intergues Blaine greatly, but he feels a little embarrassed for not having anyone to wave to in the hallway. Not even a teacher.

They turn left, pushing through the lobby and half-stumbling out of the school and into the open, hot air of polluted Los Angeles High School. Blaine's not actually sure of the name, because he's never pain attention (go figure, right?). L.A. High is what he calls it because that makes the most sense, even though he's almost one hundred percent certain it has a different name. It doesn't matter really, because at home he just calls it 'school'.

Trotting down the flight of steps, Blaine tried to ignore the burning pains in his chest with each motion. He hates having to mask his face like this so that people won't ask questions, but then he remembers that the fewer people who stay free of the hold od his life, the better. He always has others' safety in mind before his own, but then again, what safety has he ever had in his life? Yep, that's right- absolutely none. 'One day you'll be safe. One day you'll have someone to look after you and tend to your wounds, and you won't have to do it at all. One day, Blaine, you won't have to be Superman and do your best to survive.' He tells himself, and he smiles a little bit.

They finish trotting down the stairs, and turn right, heading west towards McDonald's. There's still a few other people that Kurt says 'hi' or waves to, but none of them stop to talk or ask questions or introduce themselves to Blaine. This makes him lonely, but not for long, because walking beside Kurt makes him feel better. He feels safe beside the taller brunette male. His hand twiches, wanting so badly to reach over to Kurt's, but he wills himself to keep his hands at his sides. He doesn't understand the urge to take the Hummel son's hand, but he knws that it would make him feel a lot better if he did. Blaine sighs softly, pulling his hands up and clasping the straps of his backpack tightly. He's doing anything to keep from freaking out Kurt.

'You're gonna freak him out when, if, you tell him you're gay. You're gonna freak him out when he learns that your father is an abusive nutcase and you're not doing anything about it. You're gonna freak him out when you tell him you like.' Blaine pushes these thoughts away, not wanting to sour his mood in front of Kurt. He doesn't want to concern the brunette beside him, even though his heart is screaming to open up and tell everything. Oh God, he wants to. But he doesn't. Not now.

'Don't tell him- he doesn't need to be sucked into the life you have to deal with. As much as you want someone to hold you and tell you you're going ot be okay, you can't do that to him.' But Blaine misses the warmth of someone's arms around him and comforting words being whispered into his ear. He can't remember the last time his mother had the strength to do that to him. For all he remembers, he's been the one holding her at the night for the last seven years or so. He sighs softly, just under Kurt's hearing, sweet forming on the back of his neck. He grimaces, both from the pain and heat. He hates wearing sweatshirts and dark jeans on hot days like this, but he can't risk the bruises being exposed. But fuck, he's getting really hot.

"You okay?" Kurt's voice cuts through his own internal chaos, and his head snaps over to the brunette. He's not sure how long Kurt's been staring at him, but he figures it's been a while. Blaine nods once, letting go of one strap of his back and using the back of his sleeve to wipe the sweat on his forehead.

"If you're hot, why don't you take off your sweatshirt?" Blaine wishes so desperately that he could, but he's wearing a short sleeved shirt underneath.

"Not wearing a shirt." he lies, muttering it enough that it sounds believable. But to him it comes off irritated and fake. He sucks at lying sometimes.

"So?" Kurt says, and Blaine pauses. Did Kurt just say 'so'?

"Wouldn't that freak you out, if i just randomly started stripping in front of you?" Blaine asks, his heart racing in his throat and making it hard to breathe. Taking off his sweatshirt and his actual shirt would be nice, let the air kiss his heated, glistening skin. But he saw his body this morning in the mirror. It's a mess of mottled skin, swollen and angry with red welts and black and blue bruises; in some cases it's yellow and purple. He's so colorful it makes him want to vomit. Kurt smiles warmly at him, and Blaine forgets all about the colors of his skin beneath the fabric.

"Not at all." He says playfully, giving Blaine a wink. His heart flutters rapidly and for a moment he prays that Kurt's notions equal his homosexuality. Does it? He really, really hopes so.

"Huh... So, what, seeing boys naked doesn't bother you?" Blaine asks, trying to just be as casual as he can be. He's almost damed certain that Kurt knows he's day, by the tone of his voice when he talks (he's that stereotypical gay, and he really can't help it. He tells everyone that his voice just hasn't hit that deep streak yet) and the constant blush on his face. Kurt's face goes scarlet and his eyes appear distant for a brief moment. He's imagining that, Blaine figures, and a smile spreads across Kurt's face.

"Nope- quite attractive to be honest." Blaine could squeal right now, his face is beaming instead. So bright to compensate with the fact he really doesn't want to squeal in front of Kurt right now. The brunette turns to him and chuckles.

"Excited much?" Kurt asks, his own smile stretching further. Blaine blinks and blushes madly, looking away.

"Sorry- I... Well, I mean..." He stammers, unable to find the words. He sighs, burying his face in his palms and Kurt laughs so calmly and warm that Blaine involuntarily leans over to him, nudging his shoulder against Kurt's arm. Kurt laughs harder, placing an arm over Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine's hands drop as if they're made of hot steel, and he looks at Kurt with wide, affectionate eyes. Kurt blinks, still smiling.

"What," he starts, "you never had a guy put his arm around you before?" Blaine blushes harder and shakes his head. 'Not in a friendly way.' He wants to say, but doesn't. Kurt makes an 'aw' sound, and squeezes Blaine closer to him for a moment, before loosening up, keeping his arm draped over the curly haired boy's shoulder. Blaine relaxes, letting the tension in his back release. It feels much better now, and he's not even slightly noticing the pain until Kurt's arm bumps into the bruise on the back of his neck, and he hisses slightly.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asks, worried and pulling his arm away like lightening, 'No, I'm fine- put your arm back...' He mentally responds, wishing so fiercely that he could have the strength to say it aloud. Instead he shakes his head and masks the pain with a smile that isn't quite touching his eyes, but it's definitely reaching for them. His motion is one that says, 'It's nothing, I'm fine', but he can see that Kurt doesn't really believe it, and drops his arm at his side. 'No...' Blaine has to fight a frown, and keeps his head down.

"You were fine..." Blaine mutters under his breath, casting his eyes down to his shoes and letting a soft sigh escape his lips. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Kurt turn his head towards him, a small look of concern on his face. He wants to wipe that look away and replace it with one of happiness. It's not right for people to be concerned about him. He's never had to see it before, and he's not sure he really likes it. 'No one's ever been concerned about you- why should they start now?' His subconscious questions him and his lip curls down slightly. It's the left side, so Kurt couldn't see it.

Despite what Blaine said, Kurt doesn't place his hand back over Blaine's shoulder, and they suffle in an awkward silence that last two minutes to McDonald's. It's not as busy today as it normally is as they walk across the parking lot and through the double glass door. The counter has three cashiers behind it, two costumers (both students) ordering and paying. There's two directions to go; left and right. To the right, there is one half the seating, to the left, the other half plus the bathrooms. Blaine pulls his wallet, cracked, faded red leather, from his back pocket and opens it. Allison gave him six bucks for food this week. It's all she can manage, and he doesn't eat much anyway.

He glances over at Kurt, watching the brunette pull out a few dollars of his own from a black, leather wallet before slipping it back into the back pocket of his jeans. His dark grey Queen t-shirt hangs loose from his body as he pushes his hair out of his face. Blaine looks away, stepping up first and ordering a burger and a drink. It could be cheaper, but that just means he won't eat tomorrow, save it for Thursday. That was the downside with having a mom who's only paying job was housework and babysitting for other families in the neighborhood. Dad didn't do shit at home except drink beer and beat them both. He shivers gently, taking his food from the woman behind the counter. She's got an elderly face with kind blue eyes and bright brown hair. She's beautiful enough she could pass for Kurt's grandmother.

Kurt steps up behind him as Blaine goes to the soda machines to fill his cup. He hears Kurt ordering food, but his brain doesn't register what it might actually be. He doesn't really care though. He's hungry, and that's about the only thing that matters. He fills his cup with bubbling cola, and he smiles, taking a thirsty drink before filling it to the brim again. He's a sip-stealer, he won't deny. But the employees never really seem to care, since everyone else does it too.

Blaine snaps a lid onto his cup and crosses with his food and drink to a booth on the right side of the join. It's in a shadowed corner; he doesn't know why he came over here, but Kurt follows only a few moments later, a bag in one hand, a frothy cup of tea in the other. He looks over at Blaine, a slight smile on his face and beaming in Blaine's direction as he slides into the side of the booth, opposite from the dark-haired male. Blaine rips open his bag, pulling his burger out and setting it down on the table. Kurt does the same, though his motions are a little more fluid. He doesn't look hungry more like he needs to be satisfied with some food to get by for another six to eight hours. Blaine's not sure, so he digs into his burger with greed.

Kurt looks up as Blaine begins the fast process of devouring his food. Blaine feels Kurt's electrifying eyes on his face and he, too, looks up, ketchup dripping off of his bottom lip. Kurt smirks slightly, a strand of his brown hair falling over his eye. Blaine shuffles and snatches a napkin out of the bag, wiping off his mouth and smiling. He's embarrassed, but he's comfortable )to a degree) in Kurt's presence.

'Don't get too comfortable, Blaine.' He tells himself, swallowing the bite of his food. He looks back up at Kurt as Kurt's eyes drop to his own food, and he takes a small, slow bite. Blaine obseves quietly as Kurt eats carefully, his jaw working to chew his food, his plump pink lips stained a light red from the ketchup. Blaine's staring now when Kurt looks back up, and a blush graces the ginger's cheeks.

"What?" Kurt asks after swallowing. Blaine blinks and laughs lightly.

"Nothing." He says. 'You're just beautiful.' 


	4. Sorry

TUESDAY

He hates leaving school today.

Well, he always hates leaving school, but today especially. He'd had a pretty pleasant conversation with Kurt on the way back from McDonald's, and with the exception of gym (of which he cannot stand), the day had been normal. But now he's walking home again, and it feels a lot like yesterday. But this time he knows he won't be seeing a beautiful brunette storming out of his house. Kurt had some after school activity going on and his parents were picking him up at three-thirty from the school. Blaine found this to be sweet, but it meant a lonely walk home by himself. Great.

He's walking in beat with the music in his head, something by Ace of Base, he can't really remember. Cecilia, maybe. Yeah- that's what it is. /Cecilia, walk in the light, Cecilia, you're gonna live forever according to a well known song... Haha, yeah right. Maybe Cecilia will live forever, but Blaine's damn sure that he's not going to. No one lives forever, everyone has to die at some point of their life. He shakes his head and brushes the thought aside as he walks on, reaching his street with every step that he takes. His mood is dying out and he finds his slight smile curling into a mask of nothingness.

A breeze kisses his face and he's dying to take off his sweatshirt at any moment now. He will when he gets home, he tells himself. He pulls out his phone and checks it. Two missed calls, both from home, and it's quarter to five. He wonders what Kurt's up to as he ignores the two calls and slides it back into the pocket of his jeans. He can't think about it now. He knows that he's running a little late again, but it's not his fault that he lives two miles from school and has to walk everyday.

The heat is becoming slightly more than unbearable, and he's really wanting to rip off this fucking sweatshirt already. He will when he gets home. That is, if his dad lets him get that far before beating the shit out of him. 'Maybe he won't. There have been days where he's been passed out on the couch all day and you've had a time to rest and heal. Maybe today will be one of those days.' But he can't get his hopes up. If he does, the disappointment is even worse to deal with. he's already convinced himself that he can't pray for his dad to change. That kind of a thing will never happen, and he's had to cope with that knowledge his entire life.

He turns onto his street, finding himself in a deja vu sort of moment from yesterday. The sun is beaming high, the sky is oceanic blue, and he's wearing the same clothes (he doesn't have much else). The only difference is he's not gonna see Kurt coming out of his house. He's not gonna see the brunette until tomorrow, and this thought makes him a little sad, to be honest. He sighs heavily, running his fingers through his sweaty hair as his ratty Converse shoes slap the asphalt street. There's holes in the bottom, but since it rains so rarely, he doesn't really have to care.

His pace slows and he climbs onto the sidewalk as a car rolls by. It's a Honda, light yellow. It looks familiar. Blaine's eyebrow rises slightly as he walks, watching the car swerve into the driveway of the Hummel house. Ah, that's why he knows it. He kicks at a rock, watching it bounce along the sidewalk before hopping down onto the street and rolling away. That's what he wishes he could do. Just roll away from his life. But he can't. He has to stay locked down until he graduates.

He hears car doors slamming and shouting. It's not a happy conversation, and he figures that it's been going on in the car as well. The first voice he hears is Kurt's dad- what was his name again? Burt! Right! The tone, though, in Burt's voice is more annoyed than angry. Blaine looks up to see through his curls, and he sees Burt talking to the back of Kurt's brunette hair. They're home already?

"Kurt- I'm not saying it's definite yet."

"I don't care, I'm not going to San Diego. I like it here." Kurt retaliates, turning his heel and staring coldly at his father. Blaine's heart freezes in his throat. They want to send him to San Diego? No, no, no! He can't go. Not then Blaine's just getting to know him. Not when he finally found someone he can trust... Not now when he needs Kurt's strength and charm.

"I understand that, son, but think about it. You're not getting anywhere with your singing lessons and you've barely maintained C grades. You don't seem to have any substantial friends- I think you're better suited in San Diego." Blaine wonders, very briefly, why they're having this conversation out here in the middle of the street. Their house is right in front of them, is it not? But that's not what his attention stays on. He becomes angry at Burt's words. It's not right for him to try to determine what Kurt's future will be like based on the normalcy of his life now. Blaine isn't sure, he doesn't know Kurt's life or his schedule, but perhaps...

"My singing lessons are just fine, as are my grades. And what does it matter to you who my friends are?" Kurt's bright blue eyes are blazing and Blaine keeps his head low as he passed by the house. Burt's back is to Blaine, but he knows that Kurt can see him. In fact, he can feel Kurt's eyes on him as he passed by. He hates it, he hates that he can feel Kurt's embarrassed eyes bruning into the back of his head and he hates that he's heard what he's heard. His heart is trashing in his chest as he disappears from Kurt's sight- he can't feel the painful burn of those cobalt eyes.

"Son, your education and your future matter. I know you want to be a part of music, but you have to have good grades and good influences among your friends..." Burt's voice begins to fade as Blaine crosses the lawn. He doesn't like hearing Kurt being torn apart by his own father. But he'd rather be torn apart with words than fists.

"The influences I get at school are better than the ones you provide." Blaine winces- ouch, that's harsh.

"Kurt!" He's stepping up onto the porch now, the wood creaking under his light weight. He grabs the handle, almost eager. He doesn't like where he's at; between a rock and a hard place.

"Forget it, I'm not going!" He opens the door and steps inside, closing it behind him. He can't hear anything else, and for a moment he breathes a sigh in relief. But this relief doesn't last him long as he opens his eyes and sees an empty living room. It's even slightly cleaner than this morning. The furniture si arranged decently, the beer bottles are cleaned up the glass swept away. Fucking hell, the floor doesn't even look dusty any more. Blaine's throat closes up a little and he worries if he's stepped into the right house or not. The house still reeks as though someone has dumped a ton of beer and neglected it. So yes, he's in the right house.

His heart is heavy as he takes gentle steps further into the house. He usually doesn't make it this far without aching somewhere new. The house is oddly quiet and he's not sure what to expect or prepare for. It's too quiet and he swears he can hear his sweat gliding down the back of his neck. They can't afford air conditioning or fans really, so they boil in the L.A. heat. It's difficult sometimes. But he's learned to get used to it, since he's been here his entire life and he hasn't left once. Peachy, isn't it?

Blaine shrugs out of his backpack, but he keep shis sweatshirt on. If his dad happens to use something other than his hands, Blaine doesn't want the object of choice to be direct of his body. A little cushion (no matter how thin or worn out) never hurts, he knows.

He takes a step beyond the living room, reaching into the dining room when he hears his father cursing and Allison is screaming. His heart stops and he pushes into the flor, launching himself to their bedroom at the end of the house. He nearly trips over his own feet rushing through the kitchen and through the utility room. Their door is just twenty feet from him but twenty feet feels like a thousand and his mother is screaming so loudly that his ears are beginning to bleed, he's sure. His breathing is ragged andhis chest hurts from Dad's beatings but he's far too gone to care about that right now; Allison needs him.

He grabs the knob of their bedroom door and turns it, ripping it open before stpping. Now, he's walked in on his parents having sex before, but this isn't an act of passion. This isn't remotely close to any of that and he wants to vomit right now. His mother's hair is clumped in Richard's first, patches bleeding from where he's ripped out her hair. Her eyes are screwed shut in pain as her hips are pressed into the carpeted floor. She's naked, her bruised body gleaming with sweat and fresh mark or her back and thighs. Blaine chokes, watching his dad's jutting his bones slam into his broken mother's lower back. Oh God- he's fucking her from the...

He falls to his knees, choking and dry heaving in the doorway. He can hear his dad shouting but it's as if it's in a tunnel. He feels large hands grabbing him by his hair and lifting him back up to his feet, dragging him away from his mother. He can't see her as tears stream from his eyes. He can't believe what he's seen. His own mother- raped? No... beat her until you're unable to identify her, but don't rape her. Blaine chokes aloud, coughing as Richard punches his stomach again and again, ripping his sweatshirt off of him. His eyes are squeezed shut as his dad tears apart Blaine's shirt as well, exposing his bruised back and chest. There's a moment when there's nothing but Allison screaming, and then he feels the leg of a chair slamming into his shoulders and ribs.

Doesn't anyone hear the screams? Is anybody listening? Please, God, someone call the fucking cops! Blaine's crying and he's being hit harder and harder. He's sure that his bones are breaking to fine dust and he'll wake up ten years from now from a coma. He opens his blurry eyes to find his dad leaning over him, eyes crazed and angry as the chair leg comes down and down and down. Stop it, stop it, it hurts. He's sputtering and wheezing for air. He won't be able to make it to tomorrow. He won't be able to go to school. He'll be in too much pain to move tomorrow.

Allison screams again and Richard stops hitting him. His body aches with every twitch and spasm. He's panting and moaning and wanting to just die. God, dying would be so nice right now- to just sleep and never agian wakeup. He'd be able to start fresh in the next life and hopefully have a better life. A better father who doesn't beat the shit out of him and rape his own wife. But that next life better include Kurt.

Oh, fuck, Kurt- Blaine fears that Kurt can hear everything. The screaming, the crying, the shouting, the beating. Haven't they hard it for years? Why haven't they done anything about it now? Why haven't they called the cops, why hasn't anyone fucking saved them yet?

'Save us...' Blaine begs to no God. But he begs the universe, because he tries to believe that if he asks for better from something greater than everything, maybe it'll be considered. He feels a presence beside him and Blaine's eyes open wearily. Allison is hovering over him, her eyes red and grief-struck. She eases Blaine's head into her lap and he cares less that she's still naked and more for the fact that she's holding him. He breathes in slowly, his breath shaking and weak. The next day's going to hurt like a bitch.

"Oh God, Blaine, I'm sorry. I'mn so sorry... My baby boy..." She weeps, her tears falling on Blaine's face. He wants to tell her he'll be okay, but he knows he won't be. 


	5. Angel

I'm so sorry I haven't been able to update sooner! The school starts again and it's been a bitch -.- But I'm back! I promised you I'll post chapter 6 as soon as I can. Anyway, enjoy!  
***

THURSDAY

School was a bitch yesterday, and he figures the left half of his ribs are cracked. Everything hurts and it's hard to breathe sometimes. But today he's wearing a long sleeved shirt, so he was able to leave his sweatshirt (now in slight ruins) at home. His mom promises that she'll try to go out and buy him a new one. He thinks fo her and wants to cry. She couldn't walk yesterday. She was bedridden and this only made Dad angrier. He shivers and draws his backpack tighter to his body, fighting the tears as he drops his head, walking slowly. The images of his dad, mounted upon Allison as if she was nothing more than a broken horse trying to please the rider. He feels his stomach flip and he wants to vomit again.

He passes teachers and fellow classmates but he can't really see them. He sees people mving and that's about it. He fears that if he lives through this abuse then he'll never again see the beauty of life and everything will be shades of grey. Nothing will have meaning and he'll be this mindless droid shuffling through life. His heart pounds and for a moment, in a place of safetly, he's truly afraid for himself. He doesn't want to lose faith in life, but his dad makes it very difficult for him to hold onto anything beautiful

He turns up the flight of stairs, heading for his locker. He's managed to survive first period; Kurt arrived late and Blaine was off in his own world, not noticing much of anything like usual. He felt bad afterward, but Kurt assured him not to worry about it, and the brunette had run off to go talk to another teacher. It's been pretty uneventful, and now he's on his way to put his stuff away and head to lunch. That was the nice thing about school; it starts late and you only have to suffer one class (which is the longest of the day) before lunch. Quite nice, though a little strange.

'Everything's a little strange, so it's okay," Blaine tells himself shuffling past several people. His body is aching and he really just want to go curl up somewhere and go to sleep. Not home, though. He doesn't get a whole lot of sleep there, sadly. But it's not a huge surprise. Sometimes he'll wake up to his dad shouting at him or because his mum is screaming at the other end of the house. The night's the worst for when Allison needs him, because he's supposed to be asleep. He's not allowed to run and help her. Otherwise it's bad for them both, but sometimes he wonders what is truly worse, the day or the night.

He sighs heavily, wishing that he doesn't have to have thoughts like this. He wishes he was like other people, fretting more over chemistry tests and what they're wearing rather than if they're gonna make it tomorrow or if they're gonna find their mother dead on the bathroom floor. He shivers. Fortunately, he's never come home to see Allison dead. But that doesn't mean he isn't afraid of the day that it might happen.

For a moment he lets his mind wander and he thinks about Kurt. He allows himself a small smile thinking about the beautiful brunette. He's still astonished that Kurt has singing lessons and writes lyrics. He wonders what his voice soundslike. He'll have to ask one day for Kurt to sing to him. Maybe he can play guitar for Kurt- that's something he likes to do, guitar. Guitar and bass, both of which he's good at. He imagines it for a moment, playing a soft tune and listening to Kurt sing. Somewhere quiet, where they can be alone and not bothered by argumentative or abusive fathers. Somewhere where they can talk and be free together. His smile widens a little more. He likes that idea a lot.

He's not paying any attention, and Blaine accidently bumps into a larger male, apologizing under his breath. But it's not enough, and rough, calloused hands grab him by his aching shoulders and shove him against a locker. His head slams into a hinge and he groans, blinking and looking up into the eyes of the football player. He doesn't understand the game, and he doesn't know this person, but the jersey and the buzz cut is all the hint he needs to get the idea. He chokes softly, his lips slightly parted as his eyes widen up at the snarling face of the player.

"Punk-ass bitch, watch where you're going." Oh, this is just not his week, is it? Blaine glances to the left and sees 2 other football players strutting up the hallway. Aw, fucking hell! Not more of them! 'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!' he thinks to himself, returning his fearful gaze to the player holding him off the ground now by his shoulders. The other two players see them, and stroll on over, mischievous looks on their faces as their hands grab his shoulders, one on each side. he shakes head slowly, begging them not to-

One fist into his stomach. For football players, they're weak in their punches. But then again, his dad used to be a boxer. Sure, the knuckles of the player's fist are taught with skin stretched white and angry, but he doesn't know how to use his strength in a punch. Sure, it hurts like hell against Blaine's broken and bruised torso, but it's nothing compared to what his dad has done to him in the past three days. It doesn't even come close to anything that's happened to him already.

Fist after fist crashes into his stomach. It's stupid, really, how pathetic it is. But it still hurts, 'Jurt let it all go.', he tells himself, as if it's a whisper. It doesn't even sound like his own voice. Strange. But he drops his head, clearing his mind and letting himself float. The blows seems less painful now; why is that? Weak punches become taps against his body, to feathery touches and nothing at all, He can't feel it anymore. Weird. He closes his yes, breathing deeply. He can't even feel the pain from Tuesday. His mind is dark, warm place and for a moment he feels at peace. His body is warm and comfortable and he feels like he can fly in this state. He's so weightless. He smiles to himself, letting his body drift...drift into darkness...

"Hey!" Suddenly he feels as if the world's turned wrong. His face is pressed to something cold and he feels more horizontal than vertical. This isn't right. Blaine wills his eyes to open, and he feels his lids shift, but he still can only see darkness. Why is that? His hearing is distant, but he can hear someone talking, trying to shake him. Dulled senses pick up that there are hands on his shoulders, gently moving him. He's still blind and nearly deaf, but he can feel the pain washing back into his body, and he cringes, groaning in pain. It's mind numbing how much pain he's in now and he feels like his chest has caved in on him. His body is screaming and he feels broken. Is he fully broken now? Can he finally tell someone?

'Never.' Fuck.

"Hey- kid, wake up. Hey!" His hearing, which is less distant and more muted (like someone's hands are cupped over his ears), begin to fade back in. His blackened vision starts to clear and everything's fuzzy at first but it's getting better now. It's not as dark. he sees a tan-faced male with a Mohawk sprouting from his roots. Soft eyes are wide with concern and the male helps Blaine into a sitting position. The curly-haired's head s swimming and he really, really wants to puke right now. But he didn't eat this morning, so it'd be closer to dry-heaving actually.

"You alright kid?" The man asks. Blaine blinks once, his face cold and sweaty. His hands are starting to shake. His body is cold and he feels the acids rolling over one another in his stomach. He skaes his head and tries to stand, his legs are jelly and he can't really walk. The man helps him to his feet and Blaine stumbles to the trashcan across the hallway. His cold hands grip the edge and his vision darkens again as he throws his head into the opening and heaves bile and saliva into the can. His body trembles violently as he heaves again and again.

There's someone else talking as he coughs up the emptiness of his stomach. His throat is burning like hell from this and he wants to curl up and cry. It's just not fair. Why does he have to suffer like this? He ckoes on his own spit, and coughs it into the can. He can't hear anything so he figures the hallway is empty. Well, mostly empty- there are two voices. But they're muted again and hard to understand. His legs wobble and he falls again, his knees crashing hard onto the wood floor of the school. He feels arms wind around him and leift him to his feel, very gently. It's warm and Blaine doesn't care who it is. He turns slowly and curls into the embrace, smelling a sweet scent that he can't quite place. He sighs softly into the person's jacket. It's so warm...

"Blaine? Blaine, can you hear me?" He knows that voice, and his eyes open slowly. He know this person, this man. But maybe man isn't the term. Perhaps "angel" is more appropriate. But he doesn't think about it as he tilts his head up, blinking once and starting briefly into those beautiful blue eyes. They're wide, afraid, concerned, but gentle at the same time. Blaine buried his head into Kurt's chest as the brunette's arms tighten around him, and Blaine feels Kurt press his lips to the top of his head. He breathe deeply, willing himself not to cry right now.

Kurt coos to him to calm down; he's still shaking a bit. His throat hurts from vomiting, and his body is aching with a fire that won't ever go away. He bites done on his bottom lip as Kurt rubs his back gently. He's trying not to let pain push Kurt away- not this time. That's happened once before and it left him upset. He wants to stay right there for forever; safe, warm and happy. Well, he wants to be happier and in less pain, but with Kurt he feels so secure and comforted. Right here and right now, he's happy again.

"Blaine?" Kurt says his name again, and Blaine hums in response. "C'mon- let's get you out of here. No school for you today," he finishes. If this were any other day, Blaine would refuse and rush to whatever class he was late for. But today, he doesn't mind skipping. In fact, he kind of likes the idea of it. It means he doesn't have to suffer the pain while trying to pay attention in class. Blaine nodsoce into Kurt's chest, and the brunette kisses his hair again, before unwrapping his arms from around him. Instead, he slips his arm around Blaine's waist to keep him from falling. Blaine blinks and sees the male who'd helped him up- he's holding Blaine's bag.

"Good to see you're doing okay, kid. I was worried about you." The Mohawk guy chuckles slightly, falling in slow step beside Blaine and Kurt. The curly-haired man would chuckle in response, but he's too out of it to do much of anything at the moment. Instead he lifts his mouth into a crooked smile towards the guy.

"Oh, sorry- Blaine, this is Puck." Kurt says, nodding his head to the man beside Blaine. The curly-haired man nods once in understanding. Puck, such a weird and nice name.

"Kurt, we can deal with introductions later. Right now, Blaine needs to sit and eat something." Puck says firmly to the brunette as they practically crawl at snail's pace down the hallway towards the lobby. Blaine winces from the pain as Kurt's arm tightens too much around his ribs, and Kurt loosens up a bit, but keeps his arm there. How many thimes is he gonna need to rely on other people to help him? He used to be so good taking care of himself, why is he fucking up now?

"I know, Puck. I know." Kurt replies softly, pulling Blaine closer to him. Blaine breathes gently, wanting to stay like this.

Awww :( Poor Blaine. It'll get better, though. Promise. Now, REVIEW! :D 


	6. Promise

THURSDAY

"You gonna be okay?" Kurt asks him as they walk down the sidewalk together. Blaine nods once, running his fingers through his hair. School had been a bitch on a bitch boat and he managed to get out of gym by telling the teacher what had happened before lunch with the football players. He got to spend all of that class period in the health center, laying down and resting. He's never had a better, quiet moment to himself where he can just sit and sleep and heal. Thankfully, also, the nurse didn't ask to see any bruises or marks. In fact, she just ook one look at him and let him into one of the two rooms.

He knows that Kurt doesn't really believe him, and he wonders if the brunette's heard all that goes on in their house. He hopes that he does, praying that the pain will all end soon. But at the same time he hopes that he doesn't because he doesn't want Kurt to be dragged into the mess. He doesn't want to see the brunette get hurt because of him. That would be the last thing he wants in the world. He's already made a promise to keep Kurt safe from his life. 'But how long can you keep that promise before it blows up in your face? You can't protect anyone for forever, Blaine. So get used to it.' A subconscious thoughts warns him gently, and he sighs softly. He'll protect Kurt as long as he can.

Blaine shuffles beside Kurt, reaching their street. He feels his heart pounding, but not nearly as bad as before. He's got Kurt beside him, so he feels safe. Even if it's only for a little while, he has security and warmth beside him. Kurt's a soul of strength and light, and Blaine finds himself attracted and attached to that light, feeding off of it for his own well being. It's not a total bad thing, right? Because he doesn't think so.

Blaine thinks for a moment, back to the beginning of the week. The first time he noticeably saw Kurt. He turns his head, facing Kurt as they walk. "Hey, Kurt? Monday afternoon, you kinda stormed out of your house. What happened?" Kurt glances over at him, his eyes distant.

"It was nothing- don't worry about it." The blue eyed man says firmly, his jaw set into a clench.

"But you-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Blaine. As it is, I'm sorry you heard my dad and I arguing on Tuesday. So please, just disregard everything entirely, because it's not important." Kurt's voice is cold and harsh, but Blaine knows he's not trying to be mean. And even though Kurt's tone of voice suggests that the conversation is over, Blaine was stubborn in his youth. Persistent, and he doesn't give up fighting unless there's no chance of winning.

"Your dad was talking about moving you to San Diego though." Kurt sighs, his face weary.

"Blaine, that's only my dad's suggestion. He thinks I'm not doing well enough in school to stay here, but I promise you, everything's fine." Kurt turns his head and smiles brightly at Blaine. "I'm not gonna go anywhere, so stop worrying so much about it." He says gently, reaching over and taking Blaine's hand in his, giving it a squeeze before letting go again. Blaine's face flushes and he smiles. It's amazing how close they've gotten to one another in just three days. Blaine still has yet to tell Kurt about his life, but he figures he'll tell the brunette one day, when the timing is better.

"If you do go anywhere, you had better take me with you." Blaine says with a light laugh, but insde he means it. If he goes anywhere, he wants to go with Kurt. Kurt, who's become to only best friend he's ever had in his life.

Kurt barks out a hearty laugh, his face bright with a wide smile. "Don't worry, Blaine, I will. I'll take you with me even if I have to give you a piggy back ride." Blaine blinks once and busts out laughing with Kurt as they stumble down the street together, leaning on one another as their breathing becomes short and their sides begin to hurt. They clench their stomachs as they gasp and stop in front of Kurt's house. Blaine, bright eyed, is given a bear hug from Kurt and a light peck on the forehead.

"Take care of yourself." Kurt says. Blaine smiles, nodding once. 'I'll do my best, Kurt.' He thinks to himself.

"You too." Blaine says, turning on his heel and heading to his house as Kurt crosses up into the driveway of his home.

The high of happiness fades as he pulls himself up the stairs of his house, his body quivering with pain. He pushed the aches aside earlier so he could have a good walk home with Kurt, but now he's cringing with most every move. But it could be worse. It could be a lot worse, as much as he hates to admit it. Blaine sighs, opening the door and stepping inside. The house is semi-clean, much like when he walked in on Tuesday. But he can't hear any voices or any obscene thumps or slaps or objects breaking. It's quiet, and this bothers him greatly.

Creeping slowly, he pulls off his bag and silently makes his way to his parent's bedroom. If he's careful, he might be able to slip by everything unnoticed and actually get some fucking work done today. He passes through the kitchen and the utility room, seeing the door is slightly ajar. Carefully, he grabs the knob and pulls the door open. There's enough light coming from the west window to see that his mum is asleep in her bed, looking beautiful even with the bruises on her face and arms. His dad must not be home. Probably out with his drinking buddies again. In fact, he's quite sure of that, because Allison wouldn't be sleeping if he would only be out for an hour or two.

Shuffling back towards his own room, Blaine breathes a light sigh of relief that his dad isn't home. He can get work done and maybe, just maybe, get some decent sleep tonight. But perhaps that's a little too much in terms of wishful thinking, and he begins to strip out of his sweaty shirt as he walks into his room, which is right beside the one and only bathroom of the house. He opens his door and steps inside, closing it behind him. His room is small, nothing more than twelve feet by eight feet. It's enough for a futon on the floor, the stereo right next to it, the mound of CD's at the foot of his bed, a large suitcase with clothes and his acoustic bass guitar. He smiles to himself, tossing his grimy shirt in a corner, kicking off his shoes and glancing up at the window facing east.

He has a clear view into the Hummel backyard. At first it used to bother him, seeing into other people's properties. But after a while he just didn't care anymore. No one ever really goes out into the backyard unless it's during the summer, and only once or twice has he seen Kurt's mum go out to pull weeds or something. But today no one's back there, and Blaine turns away from the window and kneels down to his suitcase, pulling out another long sleeved t-shirt. He's got a few light bruises on his arms, one or two on each, and he decides to put the shirt back, grabbing a sleeveless black shirt. The worst of everything is his stomach, chest, and hips, and even a little on his thighs. He peels his jeans off, grabbing a pair of loose fitting grey sweats and tugs them on, rolling them up to his knees. There's one bruise on his calf, but that's nothing, really.

He's surprised that his dad doesn't hit his legs. He guesses it's because he wants to keep Blaine on his feet and walking. A broken leg is harder to hide than ribs or bruises. Blain sighs, feeling much cooler now. He tugs his shoes back on and exits his room, crossing into the bathroom. He turns on the faucet and splashes cold water on his face, staring up at his reflection as he examines the dark circles under his eyes. Exhaustion, stress, and fear. It kills. Very slowly, but it does.

Blaine sighs and shuts the water off, wiping his face on a nearby hand towel. He feels cleaner, cooler, and much better now that he's not boiling under excessive fabric. He turns on his heel and crosses into the kitchen, passing through and heading back to his parent's room. He needs to get out for a few hours but he wants to let Allison know before he goes. He slips silently into the room, creeping across the floor and to her side of the bed. He doesn't want to disturb her since she's sleeping so peacefully. He reaches over, placing his palm on her forehead, and brushing away the strands of her hair. Her eyes slide open fluidly and she looks up at him, her green eyes tired.

"What is it?" She asks him, turning onto her side so she can face him a little better.

"I'm going out on a walk. I won't be gone long, I promise." He says as her eyes widen at the first sentence. She sighs softly, her eyes closing slowly before opening again.

"Okay. Be careful, and be home before it gets too dark, okay? I'll call you if your father gets home before you." Like that would actually ever happen. But he nods anyway and leans down, kissing her forehead gently. Her skin is warm and he strokes her hair gently before turning and exiting the room, walking through to the kitchen. He stops at the freezer, pulling it open and reaching deep inside. He finds the box he's looking for and tugs it out, shutting the freezer. He taps the box repeatedly against his palm, packing the contents inside before removing the plastic wrap of the cigarettes. Snatching a lighter from the kitchen table, he turns right and crosses the living room, stepping out of the house and closing the door behind him. He opens the lid of the cigarette box and plucks one out, popping it between his lips. He tucks the box into the pocket of his sweats and lights the cigarette, sucking heartily on it.

Now he really feels better. He doesn't smoke often, but sometimes, on days like this, he sucks a couple down to soothe himself entirely. He does it often enough to get the kicks but rarely enough that he's not addicted. He doesn't have the yellow teeth, the bad breath, nothing. And to be honest, he likes it this way. It's like he's got all the benefits from it without a single side effect. He doesn't even cough anymore.

He exhales slowly, watching the smoke flutter away from his face as he takes a few slow steps down the stairs. His body is hurting, but the nicotine is taking his mind off of it. It's as if it's disappearing and he forgets it's there all together. He crosses the lawn, heading west down the street. There's a spot less than half a mile away that he likes to go to and just be alone. It's quiet, secured, and sheltered from the rest of the world. He pictures it in his mind and smiles, taking another drag of the cigarette and walking with an even pace down the street.

He passes several houses, makes several turns. The walk isn't long, lasting no more than five minutes, but since he's alone it feels even longer than that. He finishes his cigarette, flicking the butt away into the street as he exhales a last breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants as he walks. The air kisses his neck and his arms, and he smiles to himself as his hair is tossed around his skull. His deep brown eyes shift to the right as he curves off of the main road and down a dirt path. Trees swarm over him, making a canopy of green and yellow. It's quiet and peaceful and he often forgets how much he really loves it here until he returns again.

Taking a sharp left, Blaine ducks underneath several overgrown bushes, weeds, and fallen tree limbs, before pushing past a section of a shrub. He stares at the familiar sight of the gushing river bank, bubbling brilliantly over a field of stones. The trees' protective cover has stopped short here and ceases to be, opening up a marvel of red skies with glittering stars. He sighs softly with a smile, dropping his eyes and seeing a person. Their back is to him, but the light-brown hair is a dead giveaway. The brunette is clad in a loose fitting button up blue shirt and khaki shorts, his feet are dipped into the running waters.

"Kurt." Blaine says, stepping into the small clearing. The male turns his head, his blue eyes wide for a moment, before he smiles.

"Hey."

So, whataya think? 2 chapters in a day :D I hope you like it!


	7. Peace

A/N : I'm so sorry for the late update! I have so much homework and well, I get tired easily these past few weeks :c Sorry, guys! That's why I'll give you **Klaine First Kiss** today! =))

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He smiles slightly and walks forward, undoing his own shoes and kicking off his socks, sitting down beside the brunette. He dips his feet into the cool waves of the river, shivering as the water chills his skin, buthe gets use to it quickly. The sun's beaming down upon them both and Blaine has half a mind to reach out and take Kurt's hand in his. He wants to, but he doesn't, because that would just make this nice moment a little awkward. And right now, that's not what he wants to deal with.

Kurt doesn't say anything, and neither does Blaine. They're content being silent, just enjoying the sunshine and the water gushing between their toes. Blaine glances down, staring at Kurt's feet under the waves. He has nice toes. Blaine smiles; Kurt's feet are a creamy color, just like the rest of him. He sneaks a peak over at Kurt's face as he rests his arms on his knooby knees. He loks as if he's staring passed Kurt, and that's how he likes to be. But he studies the brunette's face carefully, looking away just before Kurt looks at him. His eyes are as brilliat a blue as ever, his cheeks rosy with sun.

But then comes a moment where Blaine doesn't look away fast enough, and Kurt catches him staring with a look of pure admiration in his face. Blushing, Kurt nudges Blaine's foot with his own, and Blaine blinks, going scarlet in seconds. He's at a loss for words. '_Way to go, dipshit, you got caught_,' He thinks to himself, smiling and laughing nervously. He hopes that Kurt doesn't think him strange for staring. But then again, he wouldn't be surprised if Kurt _did_ think him strange. A lot of people thought him strange, they just never said it to his face.

"Sorry..." Blaine says softly, running his fingers through his hair, still awkwardly laughing. Kurt shakes his head, a grin stretching across his plump pink lips.

"t's fine." Kurt replies, glancing over at Blaine. But his bright blue eyes catch one of the faint bruise on Blaine's left calf, before trailing up and catching the smaller ones on his arms, and they widen. "Are you alright, Blaine?" He asks, motioning to them. Blaine looks down and shrugs, his heart going frantic in his chest. He hadn't expected to meet Kurt here, so he thought he was safe with going sleeveless. But he was wrong. Kurt's here, he's seen some of the marks that his dad has left upon him...

"Yeah. It's just from the gym." He lies. He _hates_ lying to Kurt, it leaves a pit of acid bubbling in his stomach and it makes him want to vomit. And now the bile seems t be forming on the back of his tongue; he can taste it, see. Ugh. Not here, of all places. Not. Here.

"Ah, makes sense." Kurt seems to take the bait, put Blaine's convincced by the fleeing look in the brunette's eyes that he doesn't believe it for a moment. They sit, again, in silence, watching the waves lap over one another. Blaine shifts, stretching his legs out and letting his calves rest in the water, the waves splashing over the tops of his ankles. It's cooling, relaxing, and he leans back on his elbows, letting his head hang, his short-curls swooshing gently in the light breeze. For Los Angeles, California, this weather is nice. It's decent; not too hot. Breezy and refreshing. And, fuck, it's not muggy.

"So how'd you know about this place?" Kurt asks to break the silence, and Blaine lifts his head a little to glance at the blue-eyed man. He smiles, letting his head fall again.

"I've known about it for a few years. I usually come here when my dad's out, just to get away, you know?" He says, before lying down on his aching back. He cringes a little but he gets comfortable, and he tucks his arms behind his head. His legs are cold from the water, but he likes it. It's soothing.

"Really? I don't see you over here all that much." Kurt remarks, and Blaine lets a breath escape his lips.

"Dad's been home a lot more, lately. He needs me to do stuff around the house."

"What about your mom?" Blaine's left hand twitches, and he fights to keep himself calm. He wonders if he should be heading back soon. Is she okay? Is she still sleeping? Did Dad come home before she got the chance to call him? Oh fuck, oh fuck...

"Mom gets sick a lot." More lies. They're not sick, they're being beaten and raped. They're being tortured, and no one's coming to save them! Not even Kurt- Kurt, God. Blaine could so very easily spill every secret, every desire, every need and want to Kurt right now. But what good would it do to suck this beautiful brunette into the mess? No good. It would ruin Kurt. But the bile is turning in his stomach and Blaine feels really sick right now. He closes his eyes to block out the gradual spinning of the world.

"Gotcha." Kurt is silent for a little while longer, and Bliane finds himself drifting in and out of focus. But he feels warmth traveling over his leg, and he relaxes. The warmth shifts up and over his clothed stomach. More relaxation; this is nice. He likes this. A shiver trembles down his back and a ragged breath escapes his lips. The warmth, which feels oddly like fingertips right about now, trails over his jaw ine and over the curve of his bottom lip; Kurt?

His eyes open slowly, and he sees Kurt staring down at him, his fingers pressed against his lip. Kurt. The brunette blinks and pulls away suddenly, embarrassed. Blaine's heart races in his chest. Oh God, Kurt was touching him. Kurt's hand were pouring warmth into him, oh fuck, fuck! He looked like he was about ready to kiss the curly-haired boy. Sitting up slowly, Blaine looks over at the brunette, who's staring hard at the river.

"Hey-" Blaine says, touching Kurt's shoulder. The brunette doesn't move, doesn't even blink. "Hey, Kurt... You don't have to be upset or embarrrassed, it's fine." He says gently, keeping his voice calm. He can't tell Kurt that he enjoyed the attention, that he enjoyed being touched. It wasn't sexual, it was curious. Blaine can still feel the phantom warmth that is slowly fading from his skin. He wants to bring it back. Right now.

"Sorry- it's just...you looked so at peace, and I thought you were asleep." Kurt mumbles under his breath, so soft Blaine can barely hear it. But he does, and he smiles.

"Kurt, look at me." The brunette shifts his attention to the curly-haired man, looking so apologetic and passive. "I promise, it's fine. I wasn't uncomfortable by it." He says, and Kurt looks a little more relieved than he did two minutes ago. In fact, he even allows himself a small smile. Blaine grins, drawinghis knees to his chest and staring at the gushing waves of the river. His skin his burning from where Kurt's fingers had touched him. He wants to ask the brunette to do it again, but he's not sure how to ask. '_What better way to ask than to just do it bluntly? No... not yet._"

"So- what do you want to be when you grow up?" Blaine asks. It's a really lame question, he knows, but he doesn't give a shit right now. It's an honest question, and Kurt's face breaks into an embarrassed smile and he shifts beside Blaine, staring out across the river and to the other side, a bank with overgrown trees and bushes.

"I want to be a singer. I want to perform and make people happy; you know? Just get on a really big fucking stage and wail." Blaine can see, though Kurt's not looking at him, that he brunette's eyes are bright and excited. It's his dream, and a thought occurs to Blaine. He smiles and shifts, facing Kurt.

"I can play for you." Blaine says, nearly grinning ear to ear. Kurt turns his focus fully upon Blaine and has a quizzical look mixed with a smirk.

"What?"

"I play guitar. Tomorrow, I'll play for you, and you can be a performer." It sounds like the most brilliat idea ever to Blaine, and he really hopes that Kurt will let him play. Kurt blinks once and his quizzical smirk turns into a smile. Slowly, he reaches over and tucks a loose, short curls of Blaine's hair behind his right ear, stroking his cheek. Blaine blushes, but he keeps his eyes locked with Kurt's. He leans over, the distance between them closing at a rapid rate. Blaine's eyes slip shut and he can feel his face getting hotter by the second as Kurt presses his lips to his burning cheek. A feathery touch, gentle and warm. Now he's on fire.

"I'd like that." He whispers into Blaine's cheek, and Blaine can feel him smile. Kurt pulls away, still inches from Blaine's face as Blaine opens his eyes again. His left hand lifts and he cups Kurt's cheek in his palm, pulling the brunette closer and easing their lips together. Chaste. So very chaste, but so very passionate. Kurt shivers, his hand sliding along the length of Blaine's thigh and curving around his lower back. Blaine fights so very hard to turn his gasp of pain into an intake of breath at intimacy. And Kurt's so far into the kiss he doesn't notice it. "_Thank God._" Blaine tells himself, moaning as Kurt's tongue trails along his bottom lip.

The brunette's experinced in the art of kissing, as Blaine very well learns right off of the bat. Kurt slips his tongue between Blaine's teeth, letting it rest for a moment against Blaine's. He pulls Kurt even closer, sucking on the brunette's tongue. It's all instinct, what his pounding heart is telling him. He's never done any of this before, how is it he's doing it now? '_Stop over-thinking and fucking enjoy yourself_.' He thinks, and moans into Kurt's mouth as the brunette slides closer still. He's burning alive and loving every fucking moment of it. Kurt expertly weaves his fingers into Blaine's short curls, pulling gently on it. And when Blaine moans, Kurt pulls harder. The curly-haired man feels a pressure growing in his groin and he's surprised at himself but doesn't react upon it. It seems he likes his hair being pulled. Okay.

Kurt pulls away, kissing Blaine's lips again, though only briefly. His heart is goingmad and he's sure that the world is spinning around him. Kurt strokes his hair and smiles, and Blaine can feel his heart melting. Oh God, he just freaking made out with Kurt, a guy he's known only since Monday. Fucking hell!

"Wow..." Blaine breathes, chuckling. Kurt leans in and kisses him again. It makes Blaine's heart leap to his throat and overwhelm his senses. He can't get enough of these kisses. He wants to bathe in them. Naturally, his head floats to other things. How would these kisses feel on the rest of his body? The pressure in his groin builds further and he muffles his moan into Kurt's lips. God, this is so bad. He's letting himself give in and he's not even caring about Kurt's safety. Only Kurt's lips on his, only his hands in his hair, the _God awful_ pressure in his groin! Fuck!

'_Remember, Blaine, you want to keep him safe, you want to protect him. If you fuck it up because he's fucking your mouth, fine, that's your choice. Just don't bitch about it later. Don't you dare._' But he's not going to fuck it up. He's going to protect Kurt from his father. He's going to, even if it's the last thing he ever does.

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A/N 2 : So what do you think of the kiss? Because to be honest, I was squealing while writing it :p Poor Blaine though :c I hate seeing him like this. Don't worry, Kurt will come to the rescue!

A/N 3 : And don't forget reviews guys! **Reviews made me update faster :)**

-Love

CHLAMEISNA


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